


goggles

by Control_Room



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Family, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Minor Violence, Past Child Abuse, Self-Worth Issues, Ships are not Focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: He wore his goggles as a shield.
Relationships: Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93





	goggles

“Why can’t you do anything right, kid?” the words were spoken softly, but the malice in them rang true and harsh. Dell did not reply - could not reply - as his father approached him, bottle swinging from his hand. “Well? Ain’t you got anything to say, boy?”

Dell shook his head, trying to back away as fast as he could, nigh purple eyes wide with watery tears.

“That’s a first, isn't it?” Frank grinned, not in a happy way at all. Dell’s back hit the wall, and his father still approached, bottle clutched, sloshing. Dell, for lack of anything else to do, mesmerized himself with calculating the way the alcohol within rose and fell, trying to drown out his father’s taunts with his own thoughts. “Normally you just can’t shut up.”

Dell tried not to cry out when the bottle swung in an arch over his father’s head, not before it hit him, he needed to prove he was tough and a Conagher, and Conaghers do not cry like pathetic children. Dell tried to remember a time his father was kinder, before Radigan died. His grandfather always managed to keep Frank in check.

The bottle landed on Dell’s head, shattering, the glass splaying around and crashing about, but due to the velocity, it all landed away from him, and for that, he was grateful.

The alcohol still stung and burned as it reached Dell’s eyes. He blinked as fast as he could to keep out the blaze, but all he got were tears and more pain.

“Think you’re so much smarter than me, huh?” Frank jeered, grabbing Dell by his arm. “That it, Delly? Got good ol’ grandpop’s brains? Not your pa’s?”

His breath stank of beer, and Dell promised himself then that even though the drink tasted good, he would never, ever allow himself to get drunk on it. 

Not if it meant he would turn into a monster.

Those were the thoughts he was remembering as he lounged by the sunset, nursing a solitary beer.

Since the team got back together, they had managed to wrangle up all the rest of the Classic mercenaries; or almost all of them. There were still a few at bay.

Well, ha. Few would be a lie. Their medic had passed away long ago, peacefully surrounded by loved ones.

There was only one of them still on the loose.

The engineer.

Dell frowned, the scowl on his lips growing as his stomach churned.

He did not yet tell his team  _ who  _ the awol engineer was, whether from shame or fear or something else, he did not quite know. He was quite certain Miss Pauling knew, after all, Conagher was no name to be thrown around like some toy.

He blessed her quietly for not telling anyone else. She was a right darn angel, that she was, and he hoped with all his might that Jeremy was the right one for her, and she for him. They deserved to be happy, damn it, they really did. Both of them had been through so much, too much, far too much.

He sipped his beer. It was not the same company his father drank, but rather the one Radigan did. It reminded him of pleasant building, not brutal destruction.

Footsteps, quiet, nearly unperceivable. Engie smiled, knowing exactly who it would be.

“Spy, don’t just stand around cloaked, have a seat and a beer,” he chuckled warmly, trying his very best to expel those bloodsucking thoughts out of his head. When he did not hear the tell tale mark of Spy uncloaking, he froze up, winding up his gunslinger. “Spy…?”

“A damned spy is your lover, boy?” the throaty chuckle Dell thought he would never, ever, not in a million years hear again rang in his ears. He leapt up, falling out of his comfortable seat, grabbing his shotgun, only to have it stepped on, barrel crushed. “Well, I’ll be, you’re weaker than ever, aren’t you?”

The mechanical whir as Frank walked horrified Dell. Yes, his hand had been cut off, some may argue he did it himself, but he would swear he did not, Radigan had done it during one of his fits of madness as the australium took over his mind, and he had built him a new one, they had built it together. However, those legs, they were all on purpose, to make himself stronger and faster, crueler and rougher. Dell tried to scramble away, but he could not, as his father’s heavy metal leg lunged forward, metal screaming against metal as it slammed Dell’s gunslinger deep into the ground, breaking it to a flattened pancake. 

Dell panicked, even after all those years of breathing exercises and guns and safety and family and protection, and he wanted nothing but those things as he called out to them, a mantra falling from his lips, a screaming cry of; “Mundy! Tavish! Jane! Jeremy! Pyro! Misha! Ludwig! Spy! HELP!”

“No one’s coming for you, Delly boy,” Frank’s leg rose away from his crushed arm. Dell pressed it to his stomach, the short circuiting stabbing through his veins painfully. Frank lowered himself to pick up the small crate of beers. “Well, I’ll be. Same brand as the old man, huh? Just can’t get over him, can you, crybaby?”

“I am not a crybaby,” Dell immediately replied, resolute and angered. How dare this man come up out of nowhere and speak to him so rudely? He barely knew him. He never cared to be his father. “I’m a grown ass doctor with eleven Phds, going on twelve, and I’m a better man than you’ll ever dream of being, so how about you just go and screw off, eh?”

“That’s what always got you in trouble, boy,” Frank shook his head, popping open one of the beers, drinking from it long and slow. Dell could only watch, cornered by the completely open landscape. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. “Your smart tongue. Yammering on and on about some bullshit that would only land you deeper into a pit, eh?”

Dell did not reply to that, nor did he cry out as the bottle whipped across his face, sending him sprawling into the dirt, deeper than he was before. He was too stunned, slammed back into a past he thought he was far far away from.

“Think you’re so smart? Managed to build that teleporter that the ol’ man couldn’t? Where’d you get the blueprints from, huh? The grave? Were you the one that robbed it?”

Behind dark goggles, a hazy film of tears rose in the engineer’s eyes as the pain set in. Engie only shook his head, he built the teleporter on his own, Radigan’s blueprints were stolen by Blutarch, not him, it was not him.

His father grabbed another bottle, the first one having broken against Dell’s jawbone, leaving an ugly cut over his cheek. The second bottle slammed over his arm, the short circuiting metal frying out, the heavy smell of burning oil stinging Dell’s lungs, making him cough slightly. A third bottle drove his head up and back, beer sloshing over his face, stinging his chapped lips and smelling rankish, foul, sharp.

The fourth bottle was shot before it even left Frank’s hand. 

“I suggest you better run, wanker,” Mundy snarled, reloading and getting his next shot ready. “And pray that those robot legs go fast enough to get you out of my sight.”

“And zat you have a wrench to get off the sapper I placed on them,” Spy uncloaked, moving to stand in front of Dell. Scout slammed in, grabbing the final bottle from the case, and slammed it across his face, breaking his nose. “And a first aid kid.”

“And an abortion kit,” Dr. Ludwig cackled, clicking a pen like thing. Demo launched multiple sticky bombs into the outlands behind them. “And a lotta luck, laddie.”

Pyro rose their flare gun, aiming it at Frank.

“We’re giving you to the count of three, maggot,” Soldier barked, aiming his rocket launcher as well. A whirring noise filled all their ears, Heavy stepping up. “I am heavy weapons guy. And this is the gun I use to shoot cowards like you.”

Frank was out of there in a blink of an eye.

As soon as they all were certain that he was gone, they turned to Engie.

“Are ye alright?” Demo asked, helping him off the ground. Dell’s knees buckled and he fell back down, shaking uncontrollably. “Jeez, medic, do you have anything for ‘im?”

“Let’s get him inside first, I can’t quite see all the damage out here,” Ludwig replied, helping Demo support Dell, both of them struggling with his shaking body before Heavy came over, picking Dell up himself. “Danke, Misha.”

“Who the hell was that creep?” Scout asked, looking around for an answer. Some shrugged, some averted their eyes, and Engie only let out a sobbing laugh. Scout’s hand came to rest on Engie’s arm, chewing his lip. Engie never just… just took what someone threw at him. He was the one that even showed Scout the value of fighting back in any situation, no matter how bad, a lesson Scout always held true. “What the frick did he want from you, Engie? Did you have some blueprints that he didn’t have?”

Dell shook his head, hiding his face against Heavy’s chest, hoping the big man would not mind his tears staining his vest.

They were in the infirmary before Dell knew it, his head spinning, memory hazy, mind aching with a thousand fires. Medic gently swabbed at his face, reaching down to Dell’s hand, carefully taking off the gunslinger.

“Do you vant a different one of your prosthetics?” Medic asked. Dell shook his head. “Alright, then. Seems you just have a lot of little cuts, nothing too bad. Anything got under your goggles?”

He shook his head again, then touched the area. Oh. Seemed like there might be something there after all. He hesitated, bit his lip then nodded.

“Everyone except Heavy, please leave the room,” Medic announced, “Privacy, please.”

Dell appreciated the doctor’s orders, smiling, wincing. When everyone had left, Dell took off his goggles to let the doctor inspect the possible wound.

“Just a bruise.”

“Good,” Dell croaked, the first word he had been able to say for the past hour. Medic looked at him sadly, meeting his eyes and then dropping the gaze. “I take it that you know?”

“Yes, he was in your file,” Ludwig sighed. Misha rose an eyebrow, and the doctor turned to Engie, silently asking permission. Dell nodded. “That was Frank Conagher. Dell’s father.”

“Boji moi,” Misha muttered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Engineer. He is cowardly scum.”

“I know,” Engie smiled wryly. “Lucky for me, I got mostly m’ grandfather Radigan’s genes.”

“I’ll get the medigun ready,” Ludwig told him, heading to the back. Heavy’s eyes met Engie’s, the stout man looking down towards his shoes. A few lumbering steps, and Misha was right in front of him. A big, comforting hand came to rest on Engie’s shoulder. “You are great engineer. Far better than your father or grandfather.”

Dell felt his eyes water again, his head dropping to press against Heavy’s arm.

“It right don’t feel like it,” he muttered hollowly. Arms gently wrapped around him, holding him in a hug. He sniffed, trying desperately not to cry once more.

“Is okay to cry,” Heavy softly reminded him. “Helps feel better. It is good.”

Dell’s firm resolution snapped, the gentle giant’s words shattering the dam in his eyes, and he cried, and wept, and shook and moaned for Radigan, wishing for the gentle hug of his grandfather. His eyes snapped open, and he looked at Misha with a shocked expression.

“I need Sniper,” he gasped, knowing he must sound crazy, but there was reason in his madness. “Please, get me Mundy.”

“I will go get him,” Heavy nodded, letting go of Dell, leaving the infirmary. “Will be right back with him.”

“You do know he is not Australian, right?” Ludwig appeared with the medigun. Dell nodded, leaning back, allowing the healing rays to wash over him. “Then why…?”

“He’s been exposed to more Austrailum than most of us,” he explained. “I can sense it. It’s… comfortin’, at times.”

True to his word, Heavy returned with Mundy in tow. 

Dell reached for him, surprising the australian with a tight hug. Dell’s heartbeat managed to stop pounding so viciously in his chest, relaxing. The australium in Sniper seemed to reach toward Dell, not literally, but he could feel it in his blood. 

“I think a good night of sleep is vat the doctor will order,” Medic smiled, signing a little paper and taping it to Engie’s forehead. “Gute nacht, Dell, if you need anything, the door to the medbay is wide open - just be sure to knock first.”

Dell caught a glimpse of Medic and Heavy holding hands under the table, and he and Sniper smiled. It was adorable how Medic and Heavy thought no one knew about their relationship, when in reality, they all did.

“Will do, doc,” Dell slid off the medical chair. “Much obliged.”

“And Dell?” Medic called after him, almost hesitantly. Engineer turned around. “Your goggles.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Engie picked them up, weighing them in his hand. “I don’t think I’ll wear ‘em tonight. Appreciate it though, doc.”

He walked out, followed by a stunned Mundy, leaving behind Misha and Ludwig in their surprised silence.

“You ok, mate? That old man poison you with something?” Sniper asked when his mind caught up to his body, chasing after Engie. Engie smiled, remembering not everyone knew who that man was. “You never take off your goggles. Everything alrigh’?”

“Yeah, I just got a good ol’ texas style healing’,” Engie chuckled, smiling at him. “A little sense in the head and a reminder I’ve got a good family.”

“Ah,” Sniper tried to follow the man’s drawl, but found himself effectively lost. “Er, what?”

“Y’all are the best family I coulda ask for,” Dell told him with total honesty, a warm smile on his lips. “And truthfully, I’ve been right darn stupid for thinking I couldn’t trust any of you.”

“Aw, truckie, c’mere,” Sniper grinned, ruffling the top of Dell’s head affectionately, glad that the man was finally listening to their input and growing his hair out - if only a little bit. Everyone agreed that it looked nice, even if he did not think so, but he grew it anyways, so he must have agreed to some extent. Engie smiled at the affection, making a pit stop at his workshop to hang up his goggles. Then the two of them continued on to the common room, where Scout and Pyro were playing on the video game console Engie had made for them to relax, though sometimes it did not quite seem like they were calm, rather getting all riled up from high scores and whatnot. Still, Engie chuckled and smiled at their determined expressions, rolling his eyes. Sniper knocked on the doorpost to no startle the younger ones in their intense concentration. Scout acknowledged him with a grunt, chewing his bubble gum with intensity. “What’re you kids playing?”

“Dunno but I’m winning!” Scout screeched, eyes watering from being open for so long. The statement he claimed, however, was not entirely true, being that Pyro was, in actuality, beating him in points, as well as the fact that the game was a co-op. They won the level, Scout hooting in victory, grinning and jumping up, racing around. “Didja see that?! We were like, BAM, and Pyro was like, POW! and then we were li- whoA ENGIE! You have eyes!”

“Yes, I have eyes, just like everyone else,” Engie chuckled, feeling a little nervous without his goggles, but made himself calm down. “What did you think, that I had sensors or something attached to my scopes?”

“Well, uh, no,” Scout replied with a grin, “but it’s a nice surprise to see that your eyes are real, you know?”

“Sure, son,” Dell smiled, sitting himself on the couch next to Pyro. The firebug took his hand and squeezed it gently, and he could tell they were smiling behind their mask. “Thanks, bud.”

“You are much more handsome without those bulky black smears on your face,” a french accent sniffed, appearing beside them in the blink of an eye. “Your eyes are the most exquisite shade of periwinkle.”

“Wh- you’re one ta talk!” the flabbergasted engineer managed to respond. “And periwinkle?!”

“Yes, periwinkle,” Spy rolled his own eyes. “I’m certain everyone would agree with me on it.”

“Aye,” Demo nodded sagely, though his sobriety could easily be questioned. “Like ah, er, ah flower. A darker one, though.”

“Thanks,” Engie sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Anyone else have any comments on my eyes?”

“They are very nice,” Soldier declared after coming very close to inspect them, letting his helmet slide back over his nose. “Smart eyes for smart things.”

Engie was not sure how to take that one, so he simply tried to process it, and then mumbled a; “Thanks, Solly. Yer makin’ me blush.”

Scout, after grabbing a bottle of water and draining it quickly, then snatching another with a straw for Pyro, jogged back to the television, ready to continue their quest in the game. He sat next to Engie, prattling off the missions and goals that the two were working on, offering a remote to him, which he declined. On the other hand, Demo and Soldier happily offered to join, whereas Spy vanished off to his room, and Sniper was content watching. 

When they finished playing, Dell served the dinner he made as they played, and he felt happy eating with all of them, a big old family. Still, Spy was the only one not present, probably having forgotten dinner again, so Engie fetched him a plate.

The backstabber thanked him, and they chatted a bit.

Dell wondered about wearing his goggles a bit less, and smiled.


End file.
